Is pointing now the point?

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Maybe it’s just a result of getting older and (even) more cynical, but it struck me recently that it has become impossible for politicians to make an outdoor visit to anywhere without finding something to point at for the cameraperson. The picture heading up this story (taken when the two actors politicians concerned visited our local windfarm a month or two ago) is a case in point. It doesn’t take a lot of searching to find a host of similar examples where one politician or another is looking very earnest and serious whilst pointing at something out of shot. That ‘out of shot’ is important as well – in not one example of the many I’ve seen is the object being pointed at either shown or explained in the accompanying text, but the earnest face, and obviously serious conversation whenever more than one individual is involved, are essential prerequisites.

Even assuming that they’re pointing at the same thing (and it isn’t always clear to me from the photos that they are), why would two people find it necessary to draw each other’s attention to the same thing at the same time, each explaining earnestly to the other exactly what it is that both of them can plainly see? My suspicious mind wonders whether there’s actually anything there at all, or whether the cameraperson has simply concluded that two people standing by a road, or a fence, or a building, or a wind turbine is too boring for words and what (s)he actually needs is an ‘action’ shot. Maybe, “Just point at something over that way and talk to each other with serious faces” is the best that they can come up with. Or maybe the main point of some politicians these days really is simply to travel around pointing at things.

'Knowing' what we think

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Conservative Minister, Rory Stewart, was rightly ridiculed last week for inventing a wholly bogus claim that “80 per cent of the Brexit public support this deal”.  But he isn’t the only one who makes it up as he goes along.  Within the last few days, we’ve had David Davis talking about “the Canada style free trade arrangement that almost everybody wants for the UK”, and the boss herself saying that the public just want the process to be "settled" and see the UK leave the EU on 29 March 2019.  Both of these seem to be just as evidence-free as the remark for which Stewart was roundly criticised – Davis’ ‘almost everybody’ sounds like rather more than 80% to me, and ‘the public’ sounds a lot like a claim that everyone is included in the remark.  Perhaps Stewart’s mistake was actually putting a figure on it; the moral seems to be that they can get away with even more outrageous claims if they avoid making them sound quite so precise.  But here’s the thing – if they all ‘know’ with such certainty what the public thinks, why are they so afraid of proving it?

Tax returns - who cares?

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In refusing to release his income tax details, UKIP’s leader in Wales said that he thought that the rush by other leaders to release theirs was a bit of ‘grandstanding’.  His refusal succeeds in making him look a little shady, but the comment is one of the few things he’s ever said with which I agree.  A question about whether the Prime Minister has gained from the tax avoidance benefits of an off-shore arrangement has been diverted into a competition between politicians to see who can appear to be the whitest.  And the original question has been completely lost in the process.

I’m not particularly interested in seeing politicians’ tax returns.  All they really tell us is that the individuals concerned have paid the correct amount of tax on the income that they’ve declared.  That should surprise no-one; it’s actually very difficult to avoid paying tax on income once it’s declared.  HMRC may have its faults, and they may sometimes struggle with the arithmetic, but the formula for calculating tax is straightforward, and once the income is properly declared, they will eventually get it right.  It strikes me as highly unlikely that any tax return published by any politician is ever going to get that wrong.

But the question asked of Cameron wasn’t whether he had paid tax on the income received; it was whether he’d ever benefited from a tax avoidance scheme.  Whilst it seems clear that he has paid all the tax due by him personally on the monies received, it remains the case that a company incorporated off-shore was able to avoid paying a penny in corporation tax for many years (even if, as the PM claims, that was never the prime objective of the off-shore arrangement).  It is probably reasonable to assume that not having to pay tax on company profits allows a company to accumulate profit at a faster rate than an equivalent company incorporated elsewhere, and therefore that the beneficiaries of the arrangement ultimately gain from the tax-free status.  That, I thought, was the original question, but it seems to have been lost in the rumpus over tax returns – a good indicator of why ‘hue and cry’ is not the best way of dealing with complex issues.

But let’s get back to the question of tax returns.  ‘Tax returns’ is being used as some sort of cypher to assess the openness and transparency of politicians (which is why, although he may have a good point, the refusal of UKIP’s Welsh leader to release his makes him look dodgy).  But what do we really need to know about politicians and money?  Fundamentally, it seems to me that there is only one relevant issue.  In essence, that is the source of their income and wealth, so that we can judge whether any decisions that they take are likely to be influenced by considerations of personal advantage, or to what extent, as a corollary, they are able to benefit personally from the rules that they change (or fail to change) whilst others are not.  If the rules on declarations of interest aren’t good enough to ensure that, then they need to be changed; tax returns don’t actually add much useful information.  And anyway, if someone is dishonest enough to make an incomplete declaration of interest, why would anyone expect that they’d then tell HMRC the truth?

Wise men and politicians

Tweet A wise man once said that it must be a very strange problem indeed if the solution is “more politicians”.  It sums up the attitude which will colour the response of many to the Silk proposal to increase the number of AMs; it’s a proposal which is unlikely to prove popular except amongst those who would rather like to join their ranks.

It’s not a new proposal; Richard proposed the same some years ago.  And the current number of 60 always looked like a number plucked out of the air.  Based on the number of MPs end the extant constituency boundaries (factors which have never been static anyway) it always looked like another of Ron Davies’s fudges – what would his party allow him to get away with.

There’s a sense in which any other number suggested is equally arbitrary; any nice round number such as 80 or 100 will always appear thus.  And it probably is, ultimately, simply a matter of opinion.  For what it’s worth, I’d support an increase – I’m simply recognising that there’s a large subjective element in that opinion.

One of the reasons given for an increase is the workload of the current AMs; and another is the fact that taking the “payroll” vote out – ministers, whips etc. – leaves an excessively small pool of backbenchers to cover an increasing range of subject areas.  That in turn makes it harder for AMs to become masters of one aspect of policy, obliging them instead to remain jacks of all trades.  I have a lot of sympathy with those arguments; but I’ll admit that I'd have even more if there weren’t AMs holding other jobs outside the Assembly - whether as councillors or running businesses or whatever - and if some of them didn’t appear at times to be merely reading the scripts they’ve been given.

One aspect of increasing the numbers of AMs that leaves me cold however is the instant suggestion that any increase needs to be accompanied by a decrease in the numbers of MPs or councillors or both.  It’s not that there aren’t arguments for a change in the numbers of either or both; it’s more that the relationship between the numbers in different roles is tenuous at best and is not really being based on any objective analysis of the responsibilities or workload.

It seems to be based partly on an unsubstantiated premise that there is a “right” number of politicians in total, and partly on politicians’ fear of telling the electorate that we need more of them.  I can understand the second; but being afraid to say what’s needed simply plays to that antipathy and strengthens it.

We’re not afraid to say if we think we need more teachers or police – why be so defensive and fearful about the requirements of a properly operating democracy?

Economists and predictions

Tweet When the latest set of unemployment figures was published, government ministers rushed to claim all the credit for the improvement, whilst opposition politicians tried to find other avenues of attack.  It’s a sight we can expect on a monthly basis from now until the election in 2015 at least, although in any given month when the figures go the other way, the government will blame factors outside their control, whilst the opposition will shout “told you so”.

Will there really be months when the figures go the other way?  I’d bet on it; variation is a normal part of economic outcomes.  Hard and precise prediction, when it comes to economics, is a bit of a mug’s game.

I thought that one of the most revealing comments in the reporting of the latest figures was the almost throwaway comment on the BBC News that many economists were surprised by the figures.  I thought that deserved rather more attention than it got.

It could just be of course that the government figures for unemployment are actually no more reliable than those for hospital waiting lists or crime, both of which have been found to be, shall we say, “wanting” when it comes to the minor matter of accuracy.  It’s more likely though that it reveals an inconvenient fact about economic forecasting – that the term is an oxymoron.

If economic forecasts made by some economists turn out to be right, it’s more likely to be a result of the sheer number of people making predictions and the range of predictions being made, than of some economists being better than others.  It’s a bit like the hypothetical infinite number of monkeys and typewriters producing the complete works of Shakespeare.

Economics, like any other discipline dealing with human behaviour, is of its nature better at analysing the past than at predicting the future.  There are all sorts of reasons for that, not the least of which is that humans hearing any predictions can, and often do, change their behaviour as a result if they actually believe the predictions, thereby invalidating them.

But if there’s one thing that is less reliable than a prediction made by an economist, it’s a prediction made by a politician based on a prediction made by an economist.  It’s unlikely to stop them though…

Short-termism is the enemy

Tweet A little over 40 years ago, in 1972, I found myself standing outside the Rhydycar leisure centre in Merthyr, waiting for the results of the Merthyr by-election for which Plaid and its candidate, Emrys Roberts, had high hopes.  I got involved in a discussion with the late Harri Webb and another, sadly now also departed, comrade about the sort of Wales they wanted to see.

Harri was arguing for a free and open democracy, but Terry was a little more hesitant.  He was concerned that a Plaid government, having led Wales to independence, could subsequently lose power and that some of the Labour Party’s Unionist dinosaurs would come to power and undo all Plaid’s work.  Kinnock, Abse and Thomas were the names specifically mentioned as I recall. 

Harri’s response was typically robust.

“Oh”, he said, “we will have shot them in the first week.  Then we can have a free and open democracy.”

I’m not a great believer in the idea that shooting people changes anything very much, and I never really believed that he was serious – although one could never be entirely sure with Harri.  The conversation was brought to mind again recently by a number of apparently unconnected stories.

The first was the result of the Australian election, which the opposition won convincingly.  One of the factors believed to be behind the scale of the election victory was that the opposition promised to scrap the hugely unpopular carbon tax.  (There’s a parallel in the UK of course, with some politicians calling for scrapping those environmental measures which are perceived as being constraints on economic growth.  It is a call which might even prove popular.) 

The second is the debate about the proposed high speed rail line in the UK, and the growing suspicion that the cross-party consensus (at UK level anyway) in favour of the project is rapidly disintegrating for short term electoral considerations.

The third, returning to that discussion outside the Leisure Centre, is the question of the continued decline in the usage of the Welsh language, and the issue of what, if anything, can be done about it.

And the fourth is the increasing belief in government circles that our behaviour can be ‘nudged’ in a particular direction rather then forced that way by legislation.  Number 10 even has a ‘nudge unit’, apparently.

The thing that links all these strands is this; bringing about real long-term change depends on winning hearts and minds and creating a new consensus.  Winning an individual election is never enough; it’s the arguments which need to be won.  Almost anything which can be easily done by one government can be equally easily undone by the next.  Failure to convince people of the merits of a particular policy or direction enables others to take an unpopular stance against that policy or direction, and undermine the longer term commitment which is necessary to bring about real and fundamental change.

Whatever the issue, for any long-term policy the work of convincing people that it’s the right thing to do is the key to success, not the result of an individual election, nor the passing of laws, nor even the gentle ‘nudging’ of our behaviour - let alone shooting people.  And in the same way, ‘success’ isn’t measured by election results – it’s measured by the extent of change. 

Much of what passes for political debate seems to ignore that, and seek short term electoral success on the basis of populism.  In the real world, political short term electoralism is the enemy of real change; it is not the route to achieving it.

In the style of the Western Mail...

Tweet Following the submission of 40 Freedom of Information requests, one for every constituency in Wales, Borthlas can today reveal that all of Wales’ 40 MPs have been involved in a secretive ceremony involving the taking of a bizarre oath.  Within days of being elected in 2010, when all those elected had publicly pledged to serve those who elected them, every single one of Wales’ MPs had instead pledged his or her allegiance not only to the monarch, but to all her ‘heirs and successors’.

No film or pictures of this strange ceremony are thought to exist, since it was held in the offices of a shadowy character normally referred to only as the ‘Speaker’, apparently because, uniquely amongst members of the House of Commons, he is not actually allowed to speak on any issue under debate.

The bizarre garb of this ‘speaker’ is understood to include ornate robes and an elaborate wig, for no better reason that than a predecessor some centuries ago chose to dress in such an unusual fashion.  In an attempt at anonymity, the current incumbent is understood to have eschewed most of the trappings, with the exception of platform shoes, although a highly placed source told Borthlas that these have no ceremonial purpose and are merely an attempt to disguise a diminutive figure.

We have been unable to confirm whether those taking the oath did so on bended knee, or whether any ceremonial swords were used as part of the ceremony, but the speaker is known to be accompanied often by other strangely dressed attendants carrying a range of potential weapons.

A spokesman for the Taxpayers’ Alliance told Borthlas that these bizarre (note to editor – have I used the word bizarre enough times yet?) oaths clearly demonstrated that politicians had lost touch with reality and were frittering taxpayers’ money on their own grandeur.

Labour issued a strong statement condemning Plaid Cymru.  “This shows that Plaid have been hiding their real intentions from the people of Wales.  Their leader Leanne Wood should come clean on the party’s real agenda of separation and independence and clamp down on such bizarre and reprehensible behaviour by her party’s members”.

The Conservatives claimed that the fact that Labour were taking the same oath as Plaid showed that the Labour Party were secret nationalists intent on destroying the United Kingdom.

A spokesman for Nick Clegg’s office said that as far as he was aware the party didn’t have any MPs in Wales, but that if they did, their participation in the ceremony demonstrated their moderating influence on the Conservative Party.

A tight-lipped spokesperson for Plaid Cymru would only say that the party would instigate immediate disciplinary action against any of its members found to be declaring their loyalty to the sovereign instead of to the people.

I made the last one up.  Obviously.

The reality is obvious

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There are one or two well-used phrases which trip from politicians’ lips when they want to avoid providing any evidence in support of their views.  One of my least favourites is the phrase “The reality is…”.  Long experience tells me that it’s invariably followed by unsubstantiated personal opinion presented as incontrovertible fact.

Cheryl Gillan came out with another one yesterday.  The fact that she’s opposing the creation of a Welsh legal jurisdiction hardly qualifies as news, for all the prominence given to it.  Her reference to the devolution process as a “never- ending conveyor belt of powers transferring from Westminster to Cardiff” was at least a new sound bite – better than the more usual “slippery slope” argument.  But sound bites, however good, do not an argument make.

Indeed, making any sort of argument for the status quo was something that seemed to be distinctly lacking in her comments.  Instead, she reverted to another of those politicians’ phrases; it was, she said, “glaringly obvious” that it was a bad idea.

There we are, argument won in two words, with no need to bother with any little matters such as substance or evidence.  In truth of course, what ‘the reality is’ and what is or isn’t ‘glaringly obvious’ will vary according to perspective.  There’s more to political debate than sophistry.

Politicians and the BBC

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And on the subject of cuts and budgets…

One much-loved trick of public bodies when engaged in a struggle to either obtain more funding or else make unpopular cuts to services is to threaten to cut the most high-profile services first.  When the initial proposals are followed by the inevitable outcry, they either end up receiving more money, or else making the cuts elsewhere.  And those alternative cuts may still be unpopular, but will end up being accepted as the lesser of two evils.

I was reminded of this when I saw the proposals from BBC Wales today.  I cannot think of anything more likely to unite politicians across parties than threatening to cut the coverage of what they say and do, and it has, indeed sparked the unsurprising outrage from three of the four Welsh parties (although the Tories for some strange reason seem not to have objected yet – another indication that they don’t really care about Welsh politics, or have they just not cottoned on yet?).

The inevitable question in my mind is this – have the BBC already got a Plan B, and what is it?

Missing the point

Tweet When Tory MP Derek Conway was caught out paying large sums of taxpayers' cash to his sons, the real scandal for me was not simply that they were his sons, but that they appeared to have done very little to earn the money which they were paid.

I can understand why people might think that there is something inherently wrong with the idea that elected members should employ their relatives, and the news that one in four of Wales' AMs employs a relative sounds intuitively to be a high proportion. But provided that the people are selected on merit, and there is some sort of control that they actually earn what they are paid, I'm not convinced that the practice is necessarily and universally wrong.

In any other walk of life, would being related to the boss automatically disqualify someone from doing a job? I don't think it would, or should. And which is the bigger scandal – appointing a relative who does the job thoroughly and professionally, or appointing someone unrelated who does very little?

Merely prohibiting our elected politicians from employing their relatives misses the point, I fear. The real loopholes that need to be plugged are the method of appointment and the lack of any objective assessment of whether their employees are actually earning what they get paid.